by Robert Rigby
But Lavelanet market was never just about shopping; it was also a major social occasion, where friends met for a chat and a gossip or a friendly argument over coffee or a glass of wine. When the weather was fine, the market was at its busiest and so were the cafés. And the weather forecasters in both England and Germany were right so far with their predictions for the day; the spring sun was already climbing in a cloudless sky.
It was still very early when Victor Forêt and the Brandenburgers arrived, but the market was heaving. Victor had completely lost track of the days, and was almost as surprised as the Germans to see the hundreds of shoppers milling about the long street where the market took place.
“Celine!” Victor gasped. “She’ll kill me.” Lau was at his side, with two more of the Brandenburgers just behind, edging forward, eyes scanning the crowd. The two remaining members of the team were a little further back.
“If we don’t find Bernard, then I might very well kill you,” Lau murmured.
“But I never leave Celine alone in the café on market day. She can’t cope.”
“Then find me Bernard!” Lau hissed. “Or someone who will lead me to him.”
Back at Henri’s house, Lau had decided that as a last-ditch measure they would search the streets close to where Victor had spotted Bernard with Odile and Josette. They might just see him or, perhaps more likely, Odile Mazet or one of her family, who might lead them to their target.
It was a slim chance – Lau knew he was clutching at straws – but with time running out and nothing else to go on, he thought it worth a try. And if by some chance they got a sighting of Max Bernard but had no chance to snatch him, there was still the back-up option of putting a bullet in his brain. Lau would sanction the killing if there was no other choice. He had his orders.
They had piled into the two vehicles only to arrive at the heaving market a few minutes later. Lau instantly changed his plan again, deciding that searching a crowd might be more profitable than driving up and down deserted streets.
He ordered his men to keep their mouths shut and told the frightened Victor to stay right by his side.
All the Brandenburgers had seen photographs of Max Bernard, but only Victor had seen him for real, and only Victor would be able to recognize Odile Mazet, her granddaughter, Josette, and her son, Henri, if any of them were at the market.
“The boy, Paul, who lives with Mazet,” Victor said quietly to Lau as they moved slowly between the stalls, “arrived here last year with some story about learning the textile trade; he has to be involved in the Resistance cell. And there’s Didier Brunet: I’ve always had my suspicions about him. Didier and Josette were in my café only the other day, watching me like hawks.”
Lau grabbed Victor by the arm and pulled him to a halt in the space between two stalls. The other Brandenburgers crowded around to prevent anyone from getting too close and overhearing what was being said.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“You … you didn’t ask. And I didn’t think it was important.”
“Everything’s important, and I need to know! Did they overhear you saying something to someone? Anything? Think, man, is there anything more you can tell me?”
Victor’s brow creased. “It was when I was having the argument with Alain Noury, the cousin of the twins. They saw me throw him out, that’s all. But the Mazet girl was looking down her nose at me like I’m dirt, like she always does.”
Lau thought for a moment. “And the Mazet girl and her family were not at home this morning, and her grandmother was not at her home. They knew we were coming. They knew.”
Odile Mazet carefully steered her daughter-in-law, Hélène, and Didier’s mother, Virginie, away from the small huddle of men between the two market stalls.
She’d glimpsed the man with Victor Forêt pull him aside and saw the others quickly cluster around them. Odile knew instantly who they were. Walking away, she smiled; if Victor had taken just a few paces more they would have come face to face.
Odile and Hélène had spent the night with Virginie Brunet after Henri took Paul and Didier’s advice and decided that none of his family should remain in their homes. Didier escorted the two women to his mother’s house, where he swiftly explained matters to Virginie, who accepted the situation instantly and without complaint. Then, before leaving to bed down with everyone else at Inigo’s cottage, Didier suggested another security precaution: “Leave the house early, and spend the morning in the market, Mama.”
“You know I always go to the market, and early,” his mother said. “But why should we stay the whole morning?”
“Because it’s easiest to hide in a crowd,” Didier replied, kissing his mother goodbye. “The Germans won’t think to come here, but just in case they do, go out early and stay out all morning, until the market’s over.”
The women had taken Didier’s advice, and all seemed to be going well until the sharp-eyed Odile spotted Victor and his new friends approaching. She hadn’t needed to explain to Hélène and Virginie why she was guiding them in a different direction so quickly.
“I think we’ll go and get a coffee, don’t you, ladies?” she asked as they reached the boundary of the market area.
“Yes, but we’ll give Victor’s café a miss, eh?” Hélène said with a smile.
“And we’ll take our time,” Virginie said. “Perhaps we’ll make it two coffees. And a croissant if they have them.”
Victor and the Germans had reached the other end of the market. Victor’s café was no more than a hundred metres away, and for a moment he considered making a bolt for it. Even the prospect of facing Celine’s fury was better than the ordeal he was suffering. But the thought was only fleeting. He knew such a move would be fatal and Victor wanted very much to live.
Several shoppers and market traders had nodded a greeting, some voicing their surprise that Victor was not at his usual station behind the bar. One or two had even stopped to chat, but each time Lau muttered a few words to the plump, sweating café owner before nudging him onward.
As they turned to retrace their steps, Erich Steidle stepped closer to Lau. He spoke very quietly, trying not to reveal his less than perfect French accent to any passers-by. He also dropped the customary “sir” to avoid arousing suspicion. “May I say something?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve been thinking; both houses empty this morning, and no sign of Henri and his people here – is it possible they might try to … get to … our friend’s wife?”
Lau’s face registered his concern. “Get to her? At the wood yard, you mean?”
Steidle nodded.
“But how would they know we’re based there?”
Steidle shrugged. “They seem to know a lot more than we’ve been giving them credit for. It’s just a thought.”
Lau consider again. “We’ll get back there. Quickly.”
He grabbed Victor by the arm and propelled him forward into the crowd.
Alain Noury watched them move away.
He’d been hanging around the market since it opened for business, watching the crowd swell, hoping to get a sighting of Victor. And now he had.
But Victor was with the two strangers he’d met up on the plateau with his cousin, Gilbert. And there were more strangers, too, and one of those might well have been the man he’d seen in the truck with his cousin the previous day.
They were obviously searching for something or someone.
It was all too unsettling; Alain did not like not knowing what was going on. He didn’t like it at all. He was becoming angry all over again. Very angry.
He followed Victor and his newfound friends.
At a safe distance.
THIRTY-ONE
Morning came slowly to the forest. The waiting was long and anxious.
Paul and Didier knew their tactics for the coming rescue attempt needed equal amounts of good luck and good timing.
For a start, Paul’s calculated guess that the majority
of the German force would be out searching for Max needed to be right. And they wouldn’t have any clues about that until they got a sighting of the house and yard.
But they’d fixed on their plan, and once the light was good enough for them to pick their way through the gloom of the forest they had to get on with it.
Henri’s car and Didier’s motorbike were tucked away in a small track that quickly petered out into a dead end. The vehicles could not be seen from the road.
Soon they would split into the three teams of two that had been decided on the previous night: Paul and Didier, Inigo and Josette, Henri and Max. Each team had a designated task.
Paul and Didier’s job was to make the rescue once the diversion had been created. That was down to Inigo, with Josette helping as necessary.
Inigo was to explode two petrol bombs halfway along the track, out of sight from the house and far enough away for any Germans inside to have to come out to investigate.
And in the minutes that any remaining guard or guards were away from the house, Paul and Didier would go in and bring Julia out.
The Noury twins also had to be taken into consideration, but Paul reckoned they would so grateful at being freed that they would immediately join forces with their rescuers. At least, he hoped they would
Inigo had argued briefly for more direct action, saying they should ambush the Germans and attack them with petrol bombs. But Henri, backed up by everyone else in the team, had swiftly vetoed this idea. It was far too dangerous and almost certainly doomed to failure.
The team was armed with nothing more than Didier’s shotgun and Inigo’s petrol bombs. They’d considered taking knives or clubs of some sort, but eventually even Inigo agreed that if it came to hand-to-hand combat with the German soldiers they would have no chance at all, so that idea was abandoned.
Henri and Max were to remain hidden close to the entrance to the track, near the road. Henri was carrying an old metal whistle, which he had kept since serving with the French army during the First World War.
The whistle had a grim history, having been used in the battlefield trenches to warn of gas attacks. It would be employed as a warning device on this operation too. Henri would sound a long blast in the event of anyone, German or otherwise, driving on to the track to approach the yard. The sound would carry all the way to the house.
Max had tried to insist that he be one of those going in for the rescue attempt, but once again, Henri, backed by Didier and Paul, had said no.
“You’re a scientist, Max,” he told him, “not a fighter. And anyway, you’re too emotionally involved; you might do something rash if you sense your wife is in danger. Tomorrow is a time for cool heads for us all.”
Didier had said nothing at the time, but he glanced towards Paul with a meaningful look and Paul had nodded his understanding; this included him.
So the plan was fixed. It needed synchronized timing; Paul and Didier had to be in position and ready for the rescue when Inigo exploded the first petrol bomb. They knew that from the roadside entrance of the track to the back of the house was just over a kilometre, and Josette surprised everyone by confidently announcing during the meeting that it took exactly twelve minutes to walk a kilometre.
“How do you know that?” Didier asked her.
“I just do.”
“But how can you be certain?”
“Because I’ve timed myself doing it several times.”
Didier looked puzzled. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted to, that’s why,” Josette said indignantly. “And it’s fortunate for us that I have, isn’t it, now that we need to know how long it takes.”
Didier didn’t argue any more and they decided, because of the rough forest terrain, to allow Paul and Didier twenty minutes to reach their rescue attempt position. If the lorry and Victor Forêt’s car were on site, they would know that the full German force was still around, in which case the mission would be aborted. They had reluctantly agreed that trying to fight it out against all the Germans would be nothing short of suicidal.
Aborting the mission was the worst-case scenario, but it had to be considered. If it became reality, Paul and Didier would have a further ten minutes to return to Inigo and Josette at their position halfway along the track. Then they would think again.
Thirty minutes in all. That’s how long Inigo would wait before hurling the first petrol bomb to create the diversion. If Paul and Didier were not back with him when those thirty minutes were up, then the operation was on.
It was a thin plan, but it was the only one they had.
They had arrived early, soon after first light, but after the previous day’s experience, Paul and Didier knew that blundering around in the semidarkness would be a serious mistake. They had to wait until the daylight was strong enough.
And finally it was.
THIRTY-TWO
The sun was making early forays through the forest canopy by the time Paul and Didier neared the house. They’d left Inigo and Josette in position half a kilometre back down the track. Paul glanced at his watch; thirteen minutes. Plenty of time to reach the back of the yard and check for vehicles.
It was damp underfoot with the morning dew still heavy on the ground when the house came into sharper focus.
Didier was carrying his shotgun. He touched Paul lightly on the arm to bring him to a halt and gestured towards the house. “Look.”
Paul followed Didier’s eyeline to the first floor of the wooden building and immediately saw the gaping hole in the front wall where a framed window had been.
“It wasn’t like that yesterday,” Didier said quietly. “Maybe they’ve already tried to escape.”
“Maybe they already have escaped,” Paul answered.
They hurried on, giving the house a wide berth, and then the yard came into view. There was no sign of any vehicles.
“You’re not going to go tearing across the yard again, are you?” Didier asked.
Paul shook his head. “They’re not here. They couldn’t fit the lorry and Victor’s car in the barn, it’s too heavily stacked with wood. They’ve gone searching for Max, just as we thought.”
“Just as you thought.”
Paul checked his watch again: eighteen and a half minutes. Josette’s timings had been good.
Suddenly the shrill blast of a whistle cut through the stillness of the morning like wire through cheese, sending startled birds fluttering from the trees.
“They’re coming!” Didier groaned. “We have to abort.”
“Not yet,” Paul said quickly. “Wait a few minutes; we have to be sure it is the Germans. They won’t see us hidden here. If it’s them we’ll make our escape.”
“It won’t be anyone else.”
“Let’s be certain.”
They waited as the agonizingly slow seconds turned into a minute and then recognized the heavy growl of a diesel engine.
“The lorry,” Didier whispered.
Before Paul had a chance to reply, there was the dull thud of an explosion followed by the whoosh of flames, which leapt into the trees and set the fir needles crackling and flaring.
Paul gasped. “It’s Inigo, he’s thrown a bomb; he’s gone for them!”
The diesel engine roared, and as Paul and Didier stood transfixed, a shot rang out. Then a second explosion rocked the forest.
Birds shrieked and the diesel engine screamed as though the driver was frantically reversing to escape the bomber.
“We’ve got to help them,” Didier said, turning to rush back through the forest.
Paul grabbed his arm. “Wait!” He gestured towards the house; there had been no sign of movement. “Our job is to go in there, check it out, do what we came to do. Julia may be tied up in there, or dead. We have to find out.”
“But Josette…”
“Josette would want us to finish the job. That’s definite. We have to do it, Didier!”
Without waiting for an answer, Paul ran towards the house as the bar
k of gunfire echoed through the trees.
Didier hesitated for a moment, then sprinted after Paul, following him in through the open back door.
The kitchen was deserted, but showed clear signs of mass habitation: stacks of dirty plates, unwashed cups and cooking pans; ashtrays filled to overflowing; piles of discarded clothes; and the rank smell of stale food, lamp oil and human sweat.
“Upstairs,” Paul said, running for the staircase.
They hurtled up the stairs and immediately saw the wide-open door and the German lying on the floor, arms and legs tied.
He was conscious now, and his eyes widened as they approached. “Untie me,” he shouted, “quickly!”
Paul and Didier ignored him as they took in the devastation of the room.
“They’ve escaped,” Paul said. “They got away.”
Didier nodded. “Now we can help Josette. Come on!”
They leapt over the prone body of Berg and went hurtling down the stairs.
“Wait!” the German yelled. “Untie me! Please untie me! We’ll reward you! Wait!”
THIRTY-THREE
The Battle of Bélesta Forest
It happened so quickly. Josette and Inigo heard the sudden blast of the whistle and exchanged anxious looks. Then the lorry was approaching quickly, with the car close behind.
Josette peered through the trees, trying to get a glimpse of the occupants of the vehicles, when she glanced back and saw Inigo lighting the wick of one of the petrol bombs.
“No, Inigo!” she gasped. “No!”
But it was already too late. Once lit, the bomb had to be thrown.
Inigo’s aim was not perfect. The first missile didn’t reach the track. It struck a tree, and as the glass shattered and the fuel ignited, there was a blinding flash of light and fir needles fizzed and crackled in a sheet of flame.
Josette saw the car reverse.
Grey ash hung in the air and the stench of petrol and burning wood leaked through the forest. German soldiers were spilling from the lorry; one loosed off a speculative rifle shot as Inigo crouched down and lit a second wick. He hurled the bomb, harder and straighter this time, and it hit the forest floor, exploding close to the lorry. The Germans went to the ground; there were screams of agony.